Not Friends
by Sela McGrane
Summary: A series of encounters, twenty years after the war ends, lead Hermione and Narcissa down a path they never would have imagined. But whatever they were... it was not friends. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**For the record, I've not given up on Telling Time, nor am I abandoning the HG/MM ship. However, I was in the mood for some Cissamione, and decided there wasn't nearly enough already written to satisfy my craving. Thusly, I had to start writing one. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

It had been a common enough thing, in the years since the end of the war, for witches and wizards to be found sporting muggle clothing and spending time in the muggle world. For some, it was a way to escape the memories that haunted them even two decades after Voldemort's fall, and for others, it was a reminder to themselves that their own war had cost lives beyond the wizarding worlds. Nobody had been safe, and it had taken a massive team of Ministry officials to wipe or alter the memories of muggles who had been exposed to conflicts between Death Eaters and their targets.

That said, plenty of the Pureblood members of society had rigidly stuck to their guns, wanting nothing to do with muggles or that world. Mostly, those sort stayed out of the public's radar, probably hoping that by the time the next generation was going to school, the crimes of their forebearers would be mostly forgotten, and as they grew up, they'd have a chance at building a life appropriate to their bloodlines.

Hermione Granger-Weasley had thought that the Malfoy family would fall into that particular camp - no one had heard hide or hair of Narcissa since her husband's incarceration in Azkaban. Draco had surfaced with a wife and son only last year, upon sending his progeny off to Hogwarts to be in the same class as her and Ron's daughter, Rose. Only a few weeks ago, Hermione had seen Draco again when she and Ron sent both Rose and her younger brother Hugo off to Hogwarts, though the current Lord Malfoy had been in the company of not only his wife and son, but with his mother and a little boy that she'd first assumed was a second son of Draco.

Truce having been struck up when Rose and Scorpius had become friends last year, Hermione had approached Draco, asking after the little boy's name, confessing she'd not even been aware he had another child. Draco had chuckled and stated that the child, Indus, was in fact his younger brother. Turned out, Narcissa had managed to get a visit with Lucius twelve years prior, mere weeks before he'd died, and that their final goodbye had resulted in the conception of a child.

Weeks after that surprising revelation, Hermione found herself even more stunned to run into the woman who'd been on her mind since the conversation with her firstborn son, in that she was wearing muggle clothes and staring absently into space while seated alone at a muggle cafe that Hermione frequented. "Miss Black," she greeted, surprise in her voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

She'd been told by Harry - dolt had known all along that Narcissa had a second child - that in the aftermath of Lucius' death, she'd taken back her maiden name, and upon the birth of her second son, had given the House Black one final chance to live on. Harry had also mentioned that Indus Black and his daughter Lily had been playmates for years. Hermione could not believe he'd never thought to mention the boy's existence to her before.

"Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa greeted. "I might say the same. Join me?" she asked, gesturing at the table.

Hermione really had no idea what compelled her to agree. She still held a fairly big grudge over the woman's inaction during her captivity and torture at Malfoy Manor all those years ago, and any other time might have declined politely and been on her way, had she even bothered with a greeting at all. Today, she was curious, and while she knew she could get most of the answers to the questions on her mind from Harry, or even Draco, she decided it was better to hear things from Narcissa's point of view. Providing the woman was even willing to talk to her about such things.

She nodded, and signaled the waiter to bring a second cup of coffee as she took a seat. "I have to admit, Miss Black, that I was a bit stunned to learn you had another child."

Narcissa smiled softly. "Whereas Draco grew up in the spotlight because of who his father was in high society, I felt it better that Indus be spared from that pressure. One day he will take up the Black Lordship, and I'll prepare him to do that, but for the first eleven years of his life, I wanted to let him be a child. Oh, and please, do feel free to call me _Narcissa_."

"Hermione," the younger witch returned the gesture. "And I think Indus will be better for that luxury. From what Harry says, Lily adores him. A Potter and a Black at Hogwarts together again - Merlin help Minerva!"

Narcissa laughed. "Oh, I hadn't even thought of that! Poor Minerva, indeed. Though if you haven't already heard, it seems that your own son has joined the mix. Adding Weasley blood to the mix of a Potter and a Black might just push the Headmistress into retirement."

The younger woman snorted. "Yes, Hugo got a Howler from his father for befriending Indus, much as Rose got one last year for befriending Scorpius."

"And from you?" Narcissa inquired. "A second Howler each?"

Hermione blushed. "Actually I sent them each two galleons as a reward for forming friendships based on a person's character and not their House or bloodline. Heaven help me if Ron ever finds out I'm actually encouraging the children to mix with _Death Eater spawn_. Really, where does he get off trying to pass on prejudices that prompted the war we bloody fought to end?"

Narcissa blinked at her for a moment, and then grinned broadly. "I officially have hope for the future again. Thank you, Hermione, for being sensible. I know that… given our past… we could never be friends, but to be open enough to let our children mingle and grow together in a world free of that past, well, it speaks volumes about your character."

The conversation shifted over to the recent changes in the Hogwarts curriculum, and eventually to books in general, both admitting to coming to this very cafe because of its proximity to a very nice bookstore. An hour passed, and Hermione finally had to excuse herself so she could get home and get dinner going for her and Ron. As the two witches said their farewells, Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed in the notion that, as Narcissa had pointed out, they could never really be friends. There was just too much history. While she agreed with Narcissa on that point, she couldn't help but wish she'd met this woman in another time, another place, where they had never been on opposite sides of a battlefield.

* * *

Narcissa sighed as she slipped the key into the lock of her flat, closing the door behind her and walking toward the street. Now that Indy was at Hogwarts, she found she had precious little to do with her time. When she'd still been Lady Malfoy, Draco's going off to school had not impacted her too much, given that House Elves had done much of the raising of her firstborn, Lucius wanting her by his side for all things, as was custom in Pureblood society. As Draco had been kind enough to provide for her and Indus' financial needs, and that she no longer attended high society functions, she had been able to dedicate one hundred percent to the upbringing of her second child. Now that he was off at school… she found herself rather bored.

And bored was what she had been for several weeks, until one Hermione Weasley had stumbled across her at a muggle cafe and engaged her in an hour long discussion about books and so forth. It had been the most fun she'd had in years. Granted, she loved Indus with all her heart, but it was nice to talk to another adult. While Harry had been open and willing to facilitate the friendship between her son and his daughter, they were absolutely not friends. Just as with Hermione, there was too much history between them.

Alas, where Narcissa never found her thought straying to Harry beyond arrangements for their children to have playdates, she had not been able to get Hermione out of her mind in the three days since they'd met at the cafe. In the course of those days - which absolutely nothing better to do - she'd gone back to that little cafe with a good book in hand, passing the time reading with a nagging hope in the back of her mind that Hermione might cross her path again.

She certainly couldn't Owl the younger woman. That would be an olive branch, and a precursor to an apology that she knew damn well that Hermione did not want to hear. Even if Hermione was the forgiving sort, Narcissa didn't believe that she deserved to be forgiven. Hermione had been tortured in her home, by her sister, and she'd done nothing but stand there looking away, too afraid that if she watched the suffering, she'd be compelled to make Bella stop. And if she'd done that… her life would have been forfeit, as would the lives of her husband and son by extension. Indus would never have been born. Knowing that, Narcissa couldn't even bring herself to be sorry for the choices she'd made.

For the fifth day in a row, Narcissa approached the cafe with yet another book in hand. Then she smiled brightly, spotting a familiar mass of chestnut curls already seated at the very same table they'd shared less than a week prior. It seemed that she was not the only one who found the other's company enjoyable. She did not even bother asking before she took a seat. "Waiting for someone?" she smirked.

Hermione offered a small smile. "Technically I am simply sitting here enjoying a cup of tea. However, if someone whom I was familiar with happened to show up, it would be impolite for me to ignore them outright."

Narcissa smiled back. "Very impolite. And of course, if someone happened to notice you and that person with whom you were familiar, your actions in striking up a conversation would be easily excused. After all, it most certainly would not mean that you were friends with this person."

"Exactly," the younger woman nodded. "Also, with a discreetly cast _muffliato_ charm, any conversations we had which happened to be more personal and friend like in nature would not be overheard."

A subtle movement under the table told Narcissa that Hermione had went ahead and cast the charm to protect their privacy. On one hand, Narcissa thought she ought to walk away right now, but the boldness the younger woman was displaying was... appealing.

The last real relationship she'd had with a fellow adult had been Lucius, and he was nearly twelve years dead and another eight gone from her life. The Pureblood elite had wanted little to do with her after the war, and she'd wanted nothing to do with them either. While Draco was technically an adult, he was still her son first, and thereby they could never be equals. While Hermione had been a child when they'd first met, they'd never really had a relationship of any sort. Today, they were just two women. Two women with at least a few shared interests, and at a mutual loss of what to do with their time now that their respective children were off at Hogwarts.

"This is mad, Hermione," she whispered, despite knowing the low voice was not necessary. "Even setting aside the past, we come from two different worlds. What little standing I have left in Pureblood society would be gone if they knew I was…"

"Friendly with a mudblood?" Hermione finished, sad look on her face. "Just as most of my friends would sooner cast me out of our social circle than support my becoming friendly with the wife of a Death Eater."

"But?"

"But I'm lonely," Hermione sighed. "I have some good friends, sure, but none that are fellow intellectuals like you. I know plenty of other mothers, of course, but at some point I want to discuss something other than our childrens' marks, or changing nappies, or what bra is best for nursing. I have people in my life, but the other day when we talked was the first time in years I didn't feel alone in a crowd."

Narcissa said nothing as she mused over her companion's words, hearing them echo back in her own mind, in her own voice, with a few minor amendments. While a couple of decades older, in in theory the wiser between the two of them, what resolve to put an end to this before it even began seemed to vanish in light of similar feelings for far longer a time. The last time she'd had another adult she could talk openly to had been before the war had even begun, back when she and Lucius had just been a man and a woman who, despite an arranged marriage, had come to love each other. She wasn't really sure if she'd ever truly fallen _in love_ with her husband, but unlike her sister Bellatrix, her marriage had not been an entirely unhappy one.

"I know the feeling," she admitted. "And despite my concerns of what should befall if we were discovered to be seeing one another socially, and find those worries to be outweighed by a desire to get to know you better."

"That doesn't make us friends… technically," Hermione said with a small smile.

"No it does not," Narcissa replied, smiling back.

* * *

They never actually planned to meet - agreeing that planning was for _real_ friends - but rather in the course of conversation when they did chance upon each other would drop hints about places they liked to visit, and when they could usually be found there. In the course of seven months they had _chanced_ upon each other a grand total of thirty-nine times and in seven different locations. Never once had they sent an Owl to the other and despite the oddity of it all, it was an arrangement that had been working quite well for them.

Hermione was satisfied with the way things were, or at least she thought she was. Then, it was June the sixth and she and Ron were at King's Cross picked up Rose and Hugo. Narcissa's familiar voice floated into Hermione's ears as the older woman greeted Indus and his year older nephew, Scorpius. Rose, Hugo, Scorpius and Indus were just as aware of the tension between their families as Hermione and Narcissa were, and had all said their goodbyes on the train before greeting their parents.

Eight months ago, Hermione had seen Narcissa on this very platform and her casual curiosity had led her to confront the woman a month later. Today, as Hermione glanced at the Malfoy and Black clan, she couldn't help feeling jealous as hugs and kisses were exchanged between them. She and Narcissa had agreed at the beginning that while no one could hear what they were discussing, anyone could see them together and thus any physical signs of familiarity were out of bounds.

It occurred to Hermione in that moment that for the way they were safeguarding the existence of their relationship, it might as well be a love affair for all the secrecy and boundaries. An image formed in her mind of Narcissa's delicate hands running along her own curves, and their lips meeting for the most precious sort of dance. Hermione's mind imagined the older witch's body and how it might look without any clothing at all…

Her heart stopped and she gulped for air, very abruptly acknowledging the flood of arousal coursing through her body at the very thought of taking her not-friend to bed, and worse yet, she knew that the feeling gripping her so wholly right now was not simply lust. It was more. It was…

No. She could not think like that.

Hermione's eyes automatically searched out Narcissa, still fighting for breath. She couldn't explain how Narcissa could have known, but suddenly a pair of dark, concerned eyes met her own, widening as she saw that Hermione was continuing to decline towards a full blown out anxiety attack.

 _Oh, gods,_ Hermione thought. _I'm falling in love with her_.

Slowly, Narcissa began creeping towards her position, mouthing the word _breathe_ over and over as both her family and Hermione's own remained oblivious to the latter's current state. She was almost there, when Hermione finally choked out a whispered confession. "Can't…Cissa..."

Hermione began to fall, and Narcissa quickly grabbed her and eased her to the ground. "Breathe, Hermione," the older witch commanded quietly. "Come on, now, in and out, that's it."

The world seemed to swim before her, and she felt on the brink of passing out, but gave her everything to focusing on Narcissa's voice. She breathed in. And she breathed out. And again. And again. And finally, the world began to come back into focus.

"Oi!" Ron's voice sounded. "What the bloody hell are you doing with my wife?!"

"She collapsed," Narcissa said crisply. "I caught her, hoping to save her a head injury."

"Are you alright, hun?" Ron inquired.

Hermione offered a weak smile, though not really directed at any one person. Her little anxiety attack had apparently caused quite the gathering. "I'm fine," she said quietly to her husband. "I must have missed breakfast… you know how my blood sugar drops. I'm lucky that… Miss Black noticed I was about to fall."

She felt Narcissa flinch at the use of formality. They hadn't used honorifics since that first day at the cafe. It felt… wrong. "Happy to help, Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa returned.

There was no bitterness in her tone, though Hermione knew her well enough that she could hear the sadness. The resignation. As Narcissa helped her to her feet, Hermione used the brief embrace as a cover to lean in and whisper in her not-friend's ear. "Saturday morning, at the cafe."

The briefest of nods was given as they parted. Ron grudgingly thanked Narcissa for her help, and she noticed a series of perplexed expressions being exchanged between the Weasley, Malfoy, Black, and Potter children. Whereas the seven adults standing here didn't want to see anything more than the surface they expected to see, the children all hated that summer holidays meant they couldn't all be together. They not only were willing to see beyond social expectations; they wanted it.

This could be a problem.

* * *

In seven months of meeting, Hermione had not once _planned_ a meeting with her. It was, in fact, part of the agreement between them that they did _not_ plan to meet. Yet, in the wake of what could have easily been an exposure of their familiarity with each other, Hermione had prompted a time and place.

Narcissa knew an anxiety attack when she saw one - Andromeda had them as a teenager often enough - and Narcissa wondered what had prompted Hermione to have one a few days prior. As far as Narcissa knew, the younger witch had never suffered them before, though there they'd been, together but not, at King's Cross, and suddenly she'd felt this urgent need to look Hermione's way, despite her mantra the whole way to the train station that proclaimed ' _I will ignore Hermione, I will ignore Hermione_.'

And then she'd looked, concerned at the sudden worry that had gripped her, and she'd seen the panic in the other woman's eyes, and the sweat beginning to show on her brow. She had hoped that Hermione would have pulled herself together before she'd even gotten over there, though when Hermione had looked at her…

" _Can't…"_

Narcissa shivered at the memory of the single, gasped word, and the desperation etched in Hermione's features as she said it. She found herself thinking back on the war, and the way the younger witch had still looked defiant as she'd gasped for air under the cruciatus curse. No, it wasn't lack of air that had terrified Hermione so greatly. It was something else.

Then there was the way Hermione had gasped her name in the process of collapsing into her arms... _Cissa._ The way she said it had almost sounded like a lover's plea. A call for completion, or a cry of relief.

The thought of Hermione in the context of a lover made Narcissa's body hum, much to her surprise. She'd certainly been attracted to women over the years, and Lucius had not been the only one to take on a mistress from time to time. Hermione certainly _was_ attractive, so Narcissa supposed it wasn't too surprising that she'd become attracted to Hermione. After all, the secrecy of their relationship did lend to erotic notions, as all secret relationships were prone to do.

It's not as if she was falling in love with Hermione…

Or maybe… no. Absolutely not. She couldn't possibly be… and even if she was, Hermione did not feel that way about her, so…

Wait.

And suddenly Narcissa _knew_ why Hermione had fallen apart at the station. She really didn't have any actual evidence to support the idea, but still, every fiber of her being was insisting she was on the mark.

"Narcissa."

She turned as Hermione whispered her name, and without so much as a how are you, she reached out and took the younger woman's hand, apparating them away to a cabin she sometimes used as a getaway. As soon as they fully materialized, she pulled on Hermione's hand, spinning the younger witch right up against her body, and kissed the woman with whom she could never be friends, but had somehow fallen in love with.

* * *

 **Continue or no? This, I know, it a stupid question because my bestie will murder me if I don't continue, but your opinions all matter too. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not honestly sure how long this is going to get, though at this point I'm expecting it to be at least another five chapters, though more than likely, closer to another fifteen. This chapter was going to cover the summer and the Indus, Hugo, and Lily's second year... and I only got through the summer soo... glad you guys are enjoying this as it's going. To "slburn" - yes I know I said I'd cover Hermione's employment situation in this chapter, however as I stated above, I didn't get as far in the timeline as I'd wanted to for this chapter. It will be in the beginning of the next chapter. Promise. :) And without further ado...**

* * *

Hermione gasped as Narcissa's lips found hers, and despite the nagging thoughts about how she was very much a married woman, she found herself kissing Narcissa back eagerly. It was so soft, so unlike Ron. Where Ron had rough stubble, Narcissa's skin was smooth, and where she often felt like Ron's mouth might completely envelop hers, Narcissa's lips matched her own, the kiss truly equal as opposed to a battle for dominance. Still…

"We shouldn't," she breathed, though she still kept pulling the other woman closer.

"We shouldn't," Narcissa agreed, as she tugged Hermione's shirt out of the waistband of her jeans, and lifted it quickly over the younger woman's head.

"I want you…" Hermione gasped, quickly unbuttoning her companion's blouse.

"Gods, Hermione, I _need_ you…" Narcissa exclaimed, unsnapping the younger witch's bra, and as soon as it fell to the ground, she leaned down and latched on the first breast she found.

The brunette moaned as her body pulsed with pleasure, leaning back against a wall for support as Narcissa methodically searched for every erogenous zone on her torso. Lower and lower Narcissa moved, eventually unbuttoning Hermione's jeans and pulling them and her knickers down in one swift motion, completely kneeling on the ground as she did so.

She pulled one of Hermione's legs free of clothing and swung it over her shoulder, not even bothering with the other leg before pulling her own shirt off the rest of the way, and then thrusting her tongue into the apex of Hermione's thighs.

"Cissa!" Hermione cried, orgasming almost immediately following the contact of the older woman's tongue against her own clit. "Oh, gods!"

Narcissa continued her beautiful assault on Hermione's body for several minutes before standing, kissing her lover on the lips gently, and pulling her closer. "How about we continue this in the bedroom?" she suggested softly.

"We shouldn't…" the brunette tried to reason for the second time, dropping her face against Narcissa's shoulder.

"But we are," the other woman replied, tone certain.

"I think I've fallen in love with you," Hermione whimpered, looking up at her lover with tears in her eyes. "And it terrifies me."

"I think I've fallen in love with you," Narcissa echoed. "And despite all the potential consequences, I cannot bring myself to walk away."

Hermione nodded, feeling much the same. She had never _wanted_ Ron the way she wanted Narcissa now. Their relationship had grown as per a natural evolution of the friendship they had and hardship they faced during the war. Harry had Ginny, and she had Ron. It was as simple as that. Until now, she'd always thought that was enough. She loved Ron, but she was beginning to wonder if she had ever really _fallen in love_ with him.

"Nor can I," she admitted. "Take me to bed."

* * *

It had been six weeks and three encounters since Narcissa had begun the affair with Hermione. She supposed she could define it as _going well_. They had not been found out, and the sex was bloody fantastic. However, the impulse to look over at Hermione at King's Cross was still bothering her a bit. She had a theory, but she was no expert and really didn't even know what books might hold the answers. She only knew one person who _would_ have the information she needed, so on a Monday morning she dropped Indus off at Draco's to play with Scorpius, and she made her way to Hogwarts.

"State your name and business," a stone Gryffin at the gate demanded.

"Narcissa Black. I am here to see the Headmistress," Narcissa said. "No, I do not have an appointment, but it is rather important."

There was a pause, and then the gate swung open. "She is by the lake, and bids you to join her there," the sentry informed her.

"Thank you," Narcissa replied.

It didn't take her long to walk to the lake, and as expected Minerva McGonagall was sitting on a bench on the far side. "Hello, Narcissa," the aging Headmistress greeted. "What can I do for you on this fine day? All is well with Indus, I trust?"

"He's fine," Narcissa replied. "Visiting his brother and nephew. I have some questions that I believe you may have the answers to."

"Go on," Minerva urged, patting the bench and was sitting on, inviting her visitor to sit.

Narcissa took a seat, and a deep breath. "What can you tell me about Clairsentience Links?"

"To start, they are very rare," Minerva replied. "They are also virtually impossible to resist once a physical connection has been made. Prior to a first sexual encounter, two Clairsentients might feel unusually comfortable with one another, but it can be resisted. Once you've had sex, your very magic bonds to your partner. I won't kill you to be apart, but it does drain your magic. That drain becomes permanent when one partner passes through the veil. When Albus died, magics that had once come easily to me became a struggle, which is why I stopped teaching directly after the war."

Narcissa nodded. "How do you _know_ if you have a link with someone?"

"It always starts as a friendship, commonly one perceived as unusual in one way or another," Minerva explained. "That's the link reaching for it's mate. Over time, the link grows stronger, eventually triggering psychic abilities… a sixth sense in which you somehow _know_ that the other person is in distress. Distress is not the only emotion to trigger the link, though it's certainly the most common. For Albus and I, he realized we had the link when, four years after I'd begun teaching here, I'd fallen down a flight of stairs. He found me minutes later, despite my being in a less than commonly used part of the castle. He used the link to locate me."

Narcissa rubbed her temples. "Damn," she muttered, thinking of what had happened at the train station and knowing beyond any doubt that she and Hermione were indeed linked. And they'd had sex… which meant that there was no walking away. Not that she actually wanted to, but given that Hermione was indeed married, it was not out of the realm of possibilities that at some point, she may want to end things.

"Narcissa, have you…" Minerva questioned, looking concerned.

She saw no point in beating around the bush. "Hermione Granger," she said tersely. "Weasley. Whatever. The link activated between us six weeks ago at the train station when we were picking up our children."

"Had you become friends prior?" Minerva asked.

"We had been… running into each other, rather often," Narcissa explained. "We knew our families would never understand a friendship between us, so we kept it very casual, and completely secret."

"Have you…"

"Ohhhhhh yes," Narcissa laughed. "Hermione is… well… I'll spare you the details."

Minerva chucked. "Thank you. Well, Miss Black, you have gotten yourself into a rather big mess, haven't you?"

"Understatement."

"Will you tell her… about the link?" the older witch asked.

"No," the blond replied. "At least not yet. She has a husband and two young children who deserve to grow up in a home with both their mother and their father. I do not want Hermione to feel like she's being pressured to break up her family."

"While I do understand that point of view, her magic is also important to her," Minerva said gently. "And she deserves to know what's at stake should she chose to stop seeing you."

"If she indicates a wish to stop seeing me, I'll let her know," Narcissa promised. "For now, however, it's information I shall keep to myself."

"Slytherin," the Headmistress teased.

"I'm sure with your Gryffindor sensibility, you'd want me to risk everything - the future of my son as Lord Black - and just announce to the Daily Prophet that I'm in love with a muggleborn woman twenty years younger than me," Narcissa countered.

"Aye," Minerva replied, eyes twinkling. "Not a bad plan, though I'd wait until Hermione is in agreement."

* * *

Hermione had been seeing Narcissa… in the sense of _seeing_ her… all of her … for the better part of a month now. It had been earth shattering both sexually and emotionally, though mentally she was starting to wear thin. She knew what she was doing was wrong - cheating on Ron - but she couldn't seem to help herself. She felt like a teenager again, totally unable to control the desperate need that filled her anytime Narcissa was not around.

She needed talk to someone, but talking to her friends was out of the question, and she was also disinclined to talk to a therapist at St. Mungo's in fear that they'd be just as judgemental as Harry or Ginny were likely to be. It was moments like this that she was grateful that she had such a close relationship with her mother.

Rose and Hugo off to visit the Potters, and Ron off at work, Hermione made her way to her parents' home on the outskirts of London. Her father, this time of day, was likely down at the pub watching a soccer game with his mates, which Hermione felt was all the better. If she was going to get sound advice, she needed to be honest, and she did not really want to talk to her father about whom she was shagging, gender of said person completely beside the point.

"Mum?"

An aging muggle woman poked her head around the corner, smiling brightly. "What brings you by, Hermione?"

"I need to talk… vent… advice…?"

"Sounds serious," Jean Granger commented. "Shall I put on the kettle?"

"Probably a good idea," Hermione murmured, following her mom into the kitchen.

Jean put the kettle on for tea and took a seat at the table across from her daughter. "So, what's going on?"

"I'm having an affair," she replied without hesitation. If she didn't say it now, she knew she'd chicken out.

Her mother blinked. "What?" she asked, incredulous.

"With a woman," Hermione continued.

Jean's jaw dropped.

"Who is twenty years older than me, and the widow of a Death Eater," Hermione explained, getting all her cards on the table.

"Hermione that's quite a lot to take in," Jean said, finally finding her voice. "You of course, realize that doing this to Ron and your children is very wrong."

"Don't be daft, I've course I know that," Hermione snapped. "I just… can't stay away from her. It feels as if every time we're together, the pull gets even stronger."

"Could she be compelling you by magical means? Like a potion, or the imperious curse?" Jean asked seriously.

Hermione loved that her mother had really taken the time and effort to learn about the wizarding world. It made conversations about her life there so much easier. "I seriously doubt it. Primarily because she is in a similar boat as I am - she stands to lose a lot if our relationship was discovered. Further any food or drink we've shared has been at a muggle cafe, and if she is carrying a wand around anymore, I have not seen her draw it."

"Why wouldn't she carry a wand?" Jean asked. "I mean, aren't witches and wizards typically so attached to their wands that they feel uncomfortable without it?"

"Typically, yes, however in the aftermath of the war there were plenty of witches and wizards who chose to live as muggles. Ron and I actually considered it for a time. It can be… difficult to go places in which the strongest memories are ones of death and destruction. All I know about Narcissa - my lover - post the end of the war is that she had a second child eight years after. Her son Indus is Hugo's age."

"Narcissa… as in _Malfoy_?" Jean asked incredulously. "As in whose sister _tortured_ you?"

Hermione groaned, regretting ever telling her parents the details of what happened that year she and the boys had been on the run. "She's Narcissa _Black_ now, though yes, one in the same. And besides being an entirely different person than her sister was, that was over twenty years ago. People change."

"That they do. I would never have imagined you to be the cheating sort, sweetheart," Jean commented. "I'm certainly not going to turn you out or any such for your choices - you're a grown woman and have a right to decide things for yourself - but you cannot expect me to actually support you having an affair. Who you're having one with _completely_ beside the point."

"I figured as much," Hermione nodded, looking at the table. "But you were the only person I could think of that I could talk to. I certainly couldn't tell any of my friends, and I didn't want to risk telling a counselor at St. Mungo's either… there's still a lot of bad blood between families of Death Eaters and families of their victims. In another generation, things will be better, but not now."

"So, my approval or not aside," Jean offered, changing direction of the conversation. "What is Narcissa _Black_ like?"

Hermione smiled softly. "She's smart. Witty. Passionate. Beautiful…"

* * *

Narcissa was still panting as Hermione flopped on the bed beside her, naked and grinning. "Somebody seemed to be enjoying themselves," she commented.

The older witch offered a weak glare. "Somehow I don't think I was the only one. You were sucking on my tit like your life depended on it."

Hermione shrugged. "Among other things."

"You're insatiable."

"I can't help myself. I know how completely wrong this is… but I just can't stand not being near you," the younger woman admitted. "My mother is convinced you put a spell on me."

"You told your _mother_?" Narcissa gaped. She opted not to make mention of the offence in being judged by a _muggle_ of all things, leaning more towards the actual risk factor involved. "What if she decides to tell Molly at the Burrow bash on Friday?"

"Oh, come on," Hermione pouted. "My mother wouldn't do that to me without a damned good reason, and even if she was intent on telling, she'd warn me ahead - give me a chance to _do the right thing_ and confess my own misdeeds. Cissa, I had to tell someone. I needed council and she was a safe choice for me. Besides, I'd be willing to bet that you've found someone to confide in as well."

It astonished Narcissa how well Hermione seemed to know her. While her reason for going to the Headmistress had been technically because of the information she needed regarding the link, she admittedly didn't have to tell the elder witch whom she'd discovered a link with. That had been a need to talk about things, pure and simple. "Minerva," she grudgingly admitted.

Hermione stared at her for a moment, and then buried her face in the pillow for a full minute before turning to look at her lover. "I have a meeting with her next Monday regarding Rose… I have no idea how I'm going to look her in the eye. Do you even _know_ how many times she would let me do things with that damned approving nod of hers and the words ' _I trust your judgement, Miss Granger'..._?"

Narcissa laughed at Hermione's imitation of Minerva's accent. " _Professor, I'm shagging the former Mrs. Malfoy!_ " she imitated Hermione, then switched to her own version of Minerva's accent. " _I trust your..._ oh my god Hermione… _judgement…Mi..._ "

She didn't get the _Miss Granger_ part fully out before Hermione threw a pillow at her. As a pillow fight escalated into another round of making love, Narcissa made a mental note to Owl Minerva and let her know that while she'd told Hermione that the Headmistress was aware of the relationship between them, she had still not told Hermione about the link. Perhaps she was being selfish in withholding the information from her lover, but ultimately she just didn't want to complicate things until they'd _both_ had some time to adjust to the notion of being together at all. And the presence of the link _did_ complicate things.

* * *

"Mrs. Weasley... _Hermione_ …" Minerva McGonagall stated. "We've been talking for nearly half an hour and you've not made eye contact once. Whatever is the matter?"

Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole. "It's my understanding that you spoke with...Narcissa, recently," she whispered. "After years of your trust in my judgement, forgive me if I'm having a hard time looking you in the eye."

Minerva reached out and cupped the younger woman's jaw. "My dear, I am _not_ upset with you. These things do happen. You cannot holp who you fall in love with. I certainly couldn't help it when I fell head over heals for my boss."

Mentally Hermione went over a biography she'd once read about Minerva's life, recalling that she'd gone from being a student here at Hogwarts, to training for her mastery, to returning to Hogwarts to teach. If the only place she'd ever worked was Hogwarts… "Albus?" she whispered.

Minerva nodded. "A relationship, and later marriage kept secret for decades. I suppose I could announce it to the world now that he's gone, but after so long of not telling people, I find that I am seldom inclined to bother. I was content with the way we lived our lives, and through secrecy, our children were spared the publicity that would have come with being the Headmaster of Hogwarts' offspring, not to mention the danger it would have caused them during Voldemort's reign of terror."

"You're really not upset?" Hermione asked sheepishly.

"I believe that at some point you'll need to make a choice regarding your marriage to Ronald," Minerva stated. "Though I do understand why you'd take time to make that decision, given the implications of who Narcissa is, or rather _was_. Your history is not one easily forgotten, and while the war may be over, there are plenty who still live to remember."

Hermione nodded. "I know. Thank you for understanding. I know fair few would."

The Headmistress nodded. "Now, shall we continue talking about your daughter's wish to follow in her mother's footsteps and acquire a time turner for her third year?"

The younger woman laughed. "She can't have one."

* * *

"Now you mind your manners," Narcissa instructed her younger son. "And if the older Slytherins keep giving you trouble for your friendship with the Potters and Weasleys, don't hesitate to go to the Headmistress."

"I got it, mum," Indus replied.

"Oi! Indy!" Hugo Weasley shouted. "Train's leaving in five minutes!"

"Don't talk to the Malfoys!" Ron Weasley shouted at his son.

"Indy is a _Black_ , dad," Rose stated, sounding bored. "If you're going to be a prejudiced git, at least get your facts right."

"Rose," Hermione sighed. "Don't talk to your father so disrespectfully. Ron, do get over yourself. Hugo, please give my best to Indus."

Narcissa couldn't help but chuckle at the exchange.

"What's funny, Mother?" Draco asked her.

"How some things never change," Narcissa commented. "Indus, please give _my_ best to the Weasley children."

"Are we sending well wishes to the Potters as well?" her elder son cut in, looking at his mother curiously.

"Well of course," Narcissa replied with a coy smile. "It's long past time old grudges were settled. Perhaps we ought to have Hermione, Harry, and their respective spouses to dinner at the Manor sometime."

"You're kidding," Draco gaped at her.

"Do I look kidding?" she inquired, offering a stern glance.

"How about next summer," Draco offer diplomatically. "So the children can come as well and at least act as a buffer against the inclination to start a duel in the middle of my dining room. Actually, maybe we should dine somewhere in public. So there will be witnesses to who started it. I assure you, it will _not_ be me."

The whistle sounded on the Hogwarts Express - the final boarding call. Quickly she scooped Indus into a hug, kissing his forehead before letting him go. She glanced back and saw Hermione doing much the same with Rose and Hugo, and let out a soft sigh, wondering if there would come a day in which she'd have a chance to kiss Rose and Hugo goodbye, and Hermione's would have the same opportunity with Indus. She wondered if such a simple sign of normalcy was even possible. Making eye contact with her lover, she knew that Hermione was wondering the very same thing.

* * *

 **Bringing some new characters into the mix this chapter... who did you like seeing best? PLEASE REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, folks. Ended up with a 'go to the hospital' level tooth infection. Then followed some serious time with narcotics and antibiotics. To my displeasure, the antibiotics always seem to make me sick to my stomach. Overall, UGH sort of week. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.**

* * *

Hermione looked guiltily at her publisher, Alexander Poppins. "Actually, I haven't really made much more progress than the last time we spoke."

"I don't get you, Hermione," the man said, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. For the better part of a decade you were churning out new books yearly, and then this year, you've not even gotten past an outline and the first couple of chapters. I'm honestly a bit concerned. This isn't like you at all."

"The last year has been…" Hermione sighed, not even sure what to say. "There have been certain things in my personal life that have become a distraction."

"Everything okay with you and Ron?" Alexander inquired, looking sympathetic.

"More or less," Hermione replied. "Though I'm not sure how much longer that will be the case."

The older man frowned. "Is that tosser cheating on you?" he demanded.

Hermione blushed furiously, unable to answer.

Understanding dawned on her publisher. "You…?" he gaped.

She nodded, looking at the desk as she mumbled out something in her own defense. "It's complicated. If I did leave Ron for my lover, it would cause ripples for more than just my own family."

"Is your new man also married?" Alexander asked, looking more than a little interested in Hermione's personal drama. While he dealt only in the publishing of educational books, he was well known for being caught with a trashy romance novel in hand. It was no wonder the man was a lifelong bachelor.

Hermione had known Alex since her early days at the Ministry, right out of Hogwarts, and she felt she could trust him with her secrets. Besides, the older man had long been vocal about how he didn't think she and Ron were well suited.

"No. _She_ is quite single," Hermione whispered.

Alexander's jaw dropped. "She?!"

Hermione nodded.

"Blimey."

"I know. I was rather surprised by that twist myself."

"She hot?"

"Incredibly, but also a pureblood whose family was very much associated with Voldemort," Hermione explained.

"Thus the problems regarding any situation in which you were public about your relationship," he mused.

"Exactly."

"I won't tell a soul," Alexander promised. "And I won't ask for her name. I know you well enough to know that while you'd put your own head on the line by confiding in me, you would not also endanger her reputation."

"You're a good friend, Alex," Hermione smiled. "Thank you for… understanding. That said, you're right, I do need to get back on track with the writing. Not that I really need the money, but I don't wish to harm your reputation by forcing you to tell distributers that the book you promised them is no time soon in the coming."

"I appreciate that," he replied. "That said, we still have three months till they were expecting an official release date, so if we can have a rough draft finished by then, we should be alright. I know you're more than capable of making that happen, provided you make it a priority. The research is done, we've already talked about that. All that you need to do is assemble it into something the snot nosed little brats at Hogwarts can understand."

"Two of those _snot nosed brats_ are mine," she said pointedly. "And another belongs to my lover. Well, two for her, if we're counting her grandchild."

"She has a child and a grandchild at Hogwarts, huh?" Alexander mused, eyes gleaming. "Factoring in the dark family background, there's really only one, single witch who fits that description. And my, my, Hermione, she is indeed _hot_."

"Damn!" the brunette cursed. "Why do I always forget I'm talking to a Ravenclaw?"

"It also helps that my mother was a Slytherin," he mused. "It's in my nature to analyze clues on the fly. Still, I won't say a word. Even to dear Narcissa."

"Thank you," she sighed.

"Though when Ron finds out… I would really love a view at your memory of _that_ event."

"Prat!" she laughed, smacking his arm.

* * *

"I can't figure it out!" Draco announcing, walking into the Malfoy library where his mother had been sequestered for the last several hours.

"What?" Narcissa inquired absently, peering intently at the open text in front of her.

"What your sudden interest in making _peace_ with Potter, Weasley, and their families is," he explained. "And how it relates to your present research. I know you well enough to know they _must_ be related."

"Maybe they are, maybe they are not," she replied, closing the book and covering the title with her hand. No need to give her elder son any extra clues. "With Indus off at Hogwarts, I simply have free time for the first time since he was born. Perhaps I am simply getting new hobbies."

"Or perhaps _not_ ," Draco accused.

"Draco, like it or not, your brother and your son have attached themselves to the Potter and Weasley children. Harry has been amicable to this thus far, and Hermione has also been supportive of the relationship between the children. I merely think it's time to take that foundation and move forward. Regarding my frequenting of your library, as I stated, I am simply making use of my newfound free time."

"Most well off senior witches take up golf," Draco argued.

"Call me _senior_ again any time in the next thirty years and I'll hex you to look one-hundred and fifty. Permanently."

Draco's face paled. "Yes, Mother. Sorry. And on that note… I think… I'll just leave you to your very sensible hobby of reading obscure books about base magics. See you at dinner."

Narcissa smirked as her elder son scurried out of the library. It was nice to know that even though he was a grown man with a child of his own, she could still scare Draco into submission when necessary.

* * *

Hermione flinched as Narcissa's fingers drug over the scar on her arm. The scar Bellatrix had given her. The scar that said _mudblood_. "Don't look at that," she whispered.

They cuddled close in what had become their bed at Narcissa's cabin, using the residue heat from their lovemaking to ward off the chill in the February air. They could have of course cast warming charms, but Hermione found that she preferred to just hold her lover close. She never liked to cuddle with Ron, but she felt completely comfortable when Narcissa curled up behind her, breasts pressing into her back.

"I'm sorry," the older witch sighed. "Just… sometimes I forget it all happened. That we have history that should have been reason enough for us never to be friends, let alone what we've become."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's much the same line of thought for me everytime I see you with Draco," Hermione admitted. "He reminds me of who your husband was."

"Draco isn't Lucius," Narcissa said firmly.

"Nor are you Bellatrix," Hermione said pointedly. "Love, I know that your family caused me pain in the past, but you never did. Yet, you still seem to feel guilt."

"Hermione, you were in my home, tortured, and I stood there and did nothing to stop it," the blond said, voice cracking as she pressed her face into Hermione's shoulder. "I should have done something."

"There's nothing you could have done," Hermione said. "Had you helped me that day, it would have put you, Lucius, and Draco all in a lot of danger."

"True, but still, what kind of monster just sits there listening to a _child_ scream in pain and does nothing to help?" Narcissa argued.

Hermione wasn't sure why Cissa seemed so intent on carrying guilt over her torture, but arguing about it seemed to be going nowhere, so she opted for another approach. Rolling over to face her lover, she was shocked to see tears streaming down her lover's cheeks. "Oh, Cissa…"

"I'm so sorry…" the older woman choked out. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Look at me, love," Hermione said, touching Narcissa's cheek. "It's not your fault."

"I suppose not," the older woman muttered, looking away.

"Narcissa," the brunette said firmly. "It's _not_ your fault."

The blond tried pulling away. "I get it, Hermione."

"It's not your fault."

"Stop it!" Narcissa demanded.

"It's not your fault," Hermione whispered again.

And then the dam broke, and Narcissa collapsed into Hermione's waiting arms, sobbing as if her life depended on it. She was crying for her sister, for her parents, for all the lives lost on both sides and the role she'd played or not played in the grand scheme of things. She cried for a choice of love she'd not had as a teenager, and for the husband that she'd grown to care for despite being forced to marry him. She cried for how Hermione, Harry, and all their friends had suffered under Voldemort, and she cried for all the children who'd grow up without one or both parents because of the deaths. She cried for the future of both her sons, and how their lives would be impacted by the choices made by the previous generations. Most all, she cried for the situation she was facing now, and the soul consuming love she felt for the woman holding her.

Hermione knew the reasons Narcissa cried, because she had cried for all the same reasons before, some years ago when Harry had said those same words to her - _it's not your fault_ \- when she'd been laying blame on herself for not being smart enough, or fast enough, to save more lives. "Shhh," she cooed, stroking her lover's hair. "It's going to be alright. I promise you, Cissa, it's going to be alright."

* * *

Narcissa arrived at Hogwarts, this time with an appointment. "Narcissa Black, to see the Headmistress," she stated to the stone guardian.

The gate swung open enough to give her entry, though this time she was not interrogated about her presence. It was well into July now, and more than a little warm. Rain the night before had left the stone pathway a bit slippery so she was careful as she made her way to the castle's entryway. Narcissa found solace in the quiet halls as she continued toward the Head's office. She'd been here many times in the last several decades relating to Draco, and then Indus' education, though then the halls had been busy and rattled with noise.

The last time Narcissa had seen these halls so quiet had been directly after the final battle of the war. Hogwarts had been in ruin then, and while the many injured could be heard moaning, and those who'd lost loved ones could be heard crying, the distinct lack of laughter echoing off the stone had been deafening, lending to the illusion of silence. No one laughed after the battle. For weeks, she hadn't heard a single laugh. The war had just been too devastating, and to have the final battle be in these halls had seemed something akin to a slaughter on holy ground. It seemed _wrong_ that Hogwarts would be forever tainted by that fateful night.

Further back in Narcissa's memory, there was a time when she could recall being here when the halls were just like this - completely empty. She'd been at the end of her seventh year as a student, and weeks prior her father had Owled and informed her she was to wed Lucius Malfoy over the summer. At the time, she'd been secretly involved with a young Gryffindor with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. The girl had been a year younger, though far more sensible than Narcissa. _She_ had known that the engagement to the Malfoy heir meant that their relationship had to come to an end. _She_ had kissed Narcissa goodbye and gotten on the train home that day, while Narcissa had hidden in her dorm, afraid to go home. Afraid of the life she was meant to live, and terrified of the rising Dark Lord to whom she knew her betrothed was already allied.

Dumbledore had found her hours later, wandering these very halls, and personally escorted her home. Before he'd left her, he'd offered an out. He'd told Narcissa that if she truly did not wish to acquiesce to her father's arrangement, he could protect her. In the end, it boiled down to duty. Andromeda had already been disowned by then, and her father had recently discovered that Bellatrix was barren. If her family line was to continue, it was up to her, and so Narcissa had smiled tightly and told Dumbledore she'd manage. She had done just that, even if the road had been hard. She was a Black. Blacks were strong.

The door to the Headmistress' office was open and waiting for her entry, and Minerva was already sitting on the sofa making two cups of tea. "Good afternoon, my dear," the older witch smiled.

Never one for beating around the bush, Narcissa got right to the point. "I was wondering if I might trouble you for access to the Hogwarts Library," she said, taking a seat next to her former Transfiguration Professor. "Despite being extensive, neither the Black or Malfoy Libraries seem to have much regarding a way to break the Clairsentience Link."

* * *

"You promised, Ron!" Hermione shouted. "I have a deadline to meet."

"But I said I'd meet Seamus down at the pub!" Ron shouted right back. "They'll already be there by now, I can't back out this last minute!"

"I'm sure the guys will understand when you tell them you'd forgotten you were taking your children to see their uncle," Hermione snapped. "Family comes first, Ron. Not the man-whore extraordinaire Seamus _bloody_ Finnegan."

"He's my best mate!"

"I thought Harry was your best mate," she scoffed. "Oh, that's right, you two stopped hanging out as much when Harry told you to _grow the bloody hell up!_ "

"Hey! I love Harry, you know that, 'Mione," Ron grumbled. "We don't hang out as much anymore because we see each other at work every day, and when we're not working, he's too busy to do other stuff."

"Yes Ron, busy with his children. Who are _rightly_ his priority!"

A few minutes more of arguing and Ron had sent a patronus message to Seamus and stormed off to find the kids. Hermione hoped they'd stayed out back for the duration of the argument… she knew it wasn't good for them to hear their parents yelling at one another. Of course, what started as a simple question of what time Ron was heading to the Burrow with the kids, as _planned_ only two days ago, hadn't meant to be another screaming match. It was just _so_ frustrating how often things like this happened. Ron would agree to something, and then claim he'd forgotten. Usually his forgetfulness coincide with drink with Seamus, or a Cannons game on the tele. Hermione hated where his priorities were.

"Bye Mum!" Hugo hollered at her, his growing feet stomping down the stairs and toward the fireplace in the next room.

Rose startled her by coming at her from behind, pulling her into a tight hug. "Bye Mum," the fourteen year old whispered.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying. It was clear that Rose, and probably Hugo too, had indeed heard every angry word between she and Ron. The sympathy in her daughter's voice had been heartbreaking. It was a tone that said _we're used to it_. Her children shouldn't be used to hearing their parents bicker.

Ron didn't even bother with a goodbye as he tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace, and with a roar and a hiss, escorted his children to his parents' place for the afternoon. As planned. So she could get some work done on her latest book without distraction. Something he'd offered two days ago when she'd been stressing about how much she still needed to get done.

She'd jumped at the opportunity, feeling a roar of satisfaction and pleasure in her chest that told her that maybe, just maybe, she and Ron still had a marriage worth fighting for. Hermione couldn't deny what she felt for Narcissa, but really, what sort of life could she and Narcissa have? They came from two completely different worlds, and they stood to lose so much if one wrong person learned of their relationship. And so if they couldn't be a couple publically, what was the point of leaving Ron for her, really? She'd get divorced and then somewhere down the road people would begin pressuring her to date again, and she couldn't tell them that she was blissfully already seeing someone.

On the other hand, she was just shy of miserable with Ron, and she hated how their disagreements impacted Rose and Hugo. Perhaps divorce, regardless of Narcissa's role in her life, was the avenue to go. If her friends started to pressure her to dating, what's the worse that could happen? It wasn't as if they could force her to actually get involved with someone. She could, occasionally, go on a _date_ with someone and then report it as a disaster. Or, perhaps she could get Alexander to pretend to be her boyfriend. Downside to that would be the accusations that they'd been involved prior to her divorce, that she'd been having an affair.

They wouldn't be wrong on that count. She was having an affair. Just not with her publisher.

Hermione sniffled, fighting back the tears as she sat down at her desk with a cup of tea and her laptop, current writing project in front of her, needing to be worked on. Once this one was done, she was going to have to tell Alexander that this was going to be her last book for a while. She had too much else on her plate right now to really focus on a source of income she didn't actually need. Alexander would understand her need for a sabbatical.

* * *

 **So... who wants to see more of Alexander Poppins in this story? PLEASE REVIEW!**


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